I had received a suggestion from a Maine biologist to try Lincoln Pond. So I started doing some research, and I was surprised that I couldn’t find a human being that had ever fished it. Many people I talked to were aware of the pond, but no one other than the biologist had ever been there, much less fished it.
Dave,the biologist described it as “under fished,” so much so that they reduced the size limit and increased the daily bag limit on the Togue (Lake Trout). I found out later that the state reaches it by float plane. He warned me that the road was rough and not to even consider using Tony’s Subaru to get there.
So now it became a challenge. It would prove to be a tough one.
We first stopped by a campground on Lincoln Pond Rd. to talk to the owner. When I asked whether he had any tips on getting to the pond, he replied “Never been there. Tried three times, and failed each time.” That was not very encouraging considering that he lives closer to the pond than anyone else.
The first several miles were slow going, but manageable. Each mile after that became more and more of a challenge.
The one thing I should have taken into consideration was the recent weather. There had been 3 inches of rain there in less than a week, and that did not take into consideration the rain that fell the night before our effort.
My son and I share stubbornness as a trait. Not always, but we hate to accept defeat and will give our goal our best shot. Many times on the way in, and even more on the way out, we and usually Tony, had to exit the truck to check mud holes, puddles, and trim brush. Almost all of those puddles had hundreds of tadpoles in them, by the way. A mistake here would result in miles of walking to reach civilization.
The long and short of it is that we were defeated by the conditions. I was forced on more than one occasion to do an eight-point turn where it looked impossible to do, and to back up for several hundred yards with the mud trenches going more than half way up my 20” wheels.
We think that we were still 1 to 2 miles from the pond, and we knew there was a section of the “road” ahead that was referred to as “The Boulder Field.”
I only know of one person to even get that far, and he turned back at that point telling me that he didn’t want to risk a busted axle, especially in the late afternoon.
So we lost a whole morning on this adventure, costing us valuable fishing time elsewhere, but I’m glad we did it. First, because it was one of many such adventures I have shared with my son. Second because I am more determined than ever to get there. We are already formulating plans to do just that next year. We will be more aware of the weather next time for sure.
Tony forwarded a video to me about fly fishing for trout in the Italian mountains. In it, the fisherman states “It is better to take the tougher road and lose than to take the easier, known path.” I guess it’s in our heritage.
So the under-fished pond continues to be under fished…for now.